


What's Worth Keeping

by cynthia_arrow (thesilverarrow)



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:09:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverarrow/pseuds/cynthia_arrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jon's about to wander back to his guests, but that's when Brendon's difficulties with the corkscrew turn from amusing to almost disastrous, if the knit of Brendon's eyebrows is any indication.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	What's Worth Keeping

**Author's Note:**

> Old-school Panic fic. Written as comment fic at livejournal, a long long time ago.

Jon doesn't know why Brendon gets like this. In front of the audience, the guy can pull his heart out of his body and let the whole world see it beat, and he can put it back again, with minimal damage. And he can still keep back a piece that's all Jon's, but that's not the point. The point is he can mesmerize a crowd of strangers until it's like they're not strangers anymore, and he can charm the pants off his friends, even the ones who've seen him drunk and puking up his guts in somebody's bathroom. But a formal dinner party? Apparently, it's daunting and just plain baffling.  
  
It's New Years Eve, so it should be a low-key evening, just some friends over. But somehow it turned into a dress-up thing, with catered food and decent wine instead of beer and pizza. Jon doesn't know how it happened, but it meant Brendon spent all day cleaning their apartment like someone's mother was coming over and not just Ryan and Keltie and Spencer and Haley and Shane and Regan. He doesn't know why he's hiding in the kitchen, opening another bottle of wine when there's one on the table.   
  
Or trying, anyway. He's stupidly nervous for some reason, Jon can tell. It's in the flail of his arms when his hands don't behave the way he wants. He's not had enough practice at using a corkscrew that it comes easily, so he's biting his lip and swearing under his breath, and Jon's transfixed, caught somewhere between  _fucking god, he's so cute when he's frustrated_  and  _holy hell, what can I do to stop him from looking so withdrawn and tense?_  
  
Jon stands quietly in the doorway and watches him for a moment, the way his back curves in ways that go to Jon's head way more than the wine but yet his shoulders are so tight. The living room is this warm, safe place where they both ought to be right now, listening to whatever long, insane story Keltie's telling, the TV on mute but ready for unmuting at a moment's notice for the ball drop. There have already been so many bad jokes about that, except from Brendon, who apparently considers New Years Eve nearly sacred.  _The chance to look back over the old and see what's worth keeping, Jon,_  he said. Spencer, already a little tipsy, had added, kissing Haley on the temple,  _And fucking walking into the next year hand in hand with it_.  
  
Jon's about to wander back to his guests, but that's when Brendon's difficulties with the corkscrew turn from amusing to almost disastrous, if the knit of Brendon's eyebrows is any indication. He can't get the cork out. It would help if he wasn't wearing a suit jacket, which looks fucking hot on him but doesn't give him the arm movement he wants. He's in all black, from the jacket to his button-down to his slacks to his sock feet, no shoes, and it makes him look more melancholy than he should as he sighs and tugs at the cork again. Jon can see him in profile so clearly, and now, finally, Brendon sees him, too.

Brendon doesn't ask for help—he never does—but he seems to calm down as Jon approaches, even if he's still fighting the wine bottle. When Jon gets close enough, though, he realizes Brendon's not really any more calm. If anything, he's less. He lets Jon take the bottle out of his hands and set it on the counter.  
  
"What's going on in your head?" Jon murmurs in his ear as he wraps his arms around him. Brendon melts against him almost instantly—he always does—but he doesn't say anything as Jon smoothes his palm over the back of his neck. But the way he holds him tight enough he can't breathe…well, that says plenty.  
  
Jon kisses him on the mouth when he pulls back, relieved to see Brendon's face soften, even if he's still radiating tension. Brendon smiles at him and closes his eyes against the emotion of it, even as he leans in and kisses him softly.  
  
Against his lips, Jon says, "You want me to…?"  
  
Brendon pulls back, then, and rolls his eyes at himself. "No. Fuck. I'll get it."  
  
"Then I'm going back out there."  
  
Brendon just nods as he picks the bottle up again, having already turned his attention back to trying to wrench out the cork.   
  
Jon's crossing out of the room when he hears Brendon swear a little too loudly, then there's the sound of something hitting the floor, a soft pop like a cork, but it's too heavy for that. What it is, though, is something his brain can't really process, not even when he looks up at Brendon's mortified expression and knows it's exactly what it looks like.  
  
It's just that what it looks like is... Fuck, Jon thinks he can't even breathe now.  
  
Probably at the sound of Brendon's swearing, somebody in the living room has gotten up and is heading toward the kitchen. Probably Spencer, if he knows his heavy gait by now after years on the bus together. But this isn't the time for Spencer or for anybody but him and Brendon. Now, he knows exactly what this party's about, and he gets why they're here, but he knows Brendon well enough to know some things aren't meant to be a spectacle, especially not when it comes to their relationship.  
  
Brendon's frozen there with the wine bottle in his hand, his other clutching the corkscrew for dear life, so it's Jon who bends over and picks up the small velvet box and pockets it, just before Spencer rounds the corner to the hallway.  
  
"Everything okay in here?" Spencer says.  
  
Jon opens his mouth, not even knowing what he's going to say, but he's cut off by the sound of Shane hollering at them from the living room:  
  
"You're gonna miss the fucking ball drop, Bren!"  
  
Jon looks back at Brendon, and he feels his face heat up. Everything in him heats up all at once, and he reaches out his hand to Brendon.  
  
"Come on," Jon says, and Brendon takes his hand and holds it so tightly it hurts as they follow Spencer into the living room to ring in the new.


End file.
